Page 38 of Cruel Devil

Andy stops beside me at the edge of the dance floor, scanning the crowd through narrowed eyes.

“See him yet?” she asks.

I feel out of place amongst all these carefree souls with their sloppy smiles and their sweaty bodies. In my current state of mind, I’d rather be nursing a bottle of tequila…which says a lot, because I gave up binge drinking years ago.

But since I’ve met Savage, bad habits I’ve worked so hard to break have begun creeping back into my life.

I lean in so she can hear me over the pounding music. “Doubt he’s here. But someone up there might know where to find him.” I point as subtly as possible to the VIP area.

Andy checks out the balcony, shrugging. “Figures. Been up there before?”

I suppress a shudder at a violent flashback of Sullivan squeezing my tits.

“Yeah. Once.”

“Can you get us in?”

“I can try.”

She frowns at my reluctant shrug.

This was the plan from the start, but I’m doubting myself now. Another bad habit that’s worming its way back into my life.

Andy tugs at her green bodycon dress, and I wince a little recalling how pedantic Vito was about her outfit.

I already knew Vito had more than one ‘safehouse’. But the closet full of women’s clothes Vito kept at the cottage still surprised me. He said it was in case one of his dates needed to spruce up before heading out with him.

When it was Andy’s turn to dress up, it’s like someone flipped a switch in Vito’s head. He insisted on something green, to bring out her eyes. That she straight-iron her hair, which she reluctantly agreed to. But when he came up to her with a mascara wand, she slapped him.

Weirdly, that just made him smile at her in a knowing way, and from the shock on her face, she seemed to instantly regret it.

I used to pack it on when I was clubbing, but I didn’t bother tonight. And while my dress is tight, it’s almost at my knees. Savage nearly had an aneurysm at some of Vito’s suggestions for what I should wear. Guess I should be lucky I ended up with this black sequined number and not a burqa.

I didn’t argue with him. I’m not here to party, or to get laid.

I’m here to find the man who kidnapped my sisters.

It chills the marrow in my bones to think that an apex predator like him so much as looked at my babies. Especially when I know it’s likely he’s already done so much worse.

“We’ll figure a way in.” Andy slips onto the dance floor, and I’m only a pounding bass beat behind her.

She sways confidently on her heels, despite the press of the crowd and limited visibility out here.

I’m still in two minds about Andy. She seems capable, independent, and pragmatic. Add in her EMT-level medical experience, and she’s an excellent plus one to any mob infiltration party. But she’s triggered by the weirdest shit, so I’m wary to trust her. I know from experience that PTSD doesn’t make someone weak…but it definitely makes them unreliable.

We had some time alone to talk when Savage and Vito went to fetch ammo and brief their men about tonight’s mission. When I’d explained to her what had happened to my sisters, her story came out.

A few years ago, she’d been snatched in a parking lot by some psycho. He’d held her and a bunch of other girls captive, hiring them out to his sick friends as sex toys.

She escaped with the help of another captive and the man who came to rescue her, a man who Andy seems to both fear and revere. After that awful experience, she took several self defense courses, and learnt how to shoot a gun.

Andy refused to come in here without being armed, even when there was a chance we wouldn’t get past security. Vito found her a pistol small enough to be strapped to the inside of her thigh, and luckily, only women’s purses are checked at the door. Neither of us brought one.

There won’t be time for us to go and powder our noses.

I follow her through the club’s writhing dance floor, tasting as much as smelling the fog of sweat and perfume. We’re both bought drinks, but I’ve barely touched mine. I don’t think Andy’s taken a single sip.

We’ve only been dancing for a few minutes when Andy cocks her head and leaves the dance floor again. She heads straight for the bouncer at the VIP entrance as if she was born in a seventeen-room mansion with a vintage platinum spoon in her mouth.

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